


Like One of Your French Girls

by ThatOneGreyGhost



Category: MCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clintasha Feels, Dom Bucky Barnes, Fluff, Gay Bucky Barnes, M/M, Married! Clintasha, Smut, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Steve Rogers is not innocent, Sub Steve Rogers, bi steve rogers, sooooo much smut, stucky feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29624883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneGreyGhost/pseuds/ThatOneGreyGhost
Summary: Steve has always had the bad habit of drawing dirty pictures, but he also has a secret; most of the time, he can draw some pretty graphic things in public, and no one will know.That is, until Bucky starts getting better and recognizes his little quirks.
Relationships: Clintasha, Stucky
Kudos: 69





	Like One of Your French Girls

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sorry

The first time he did it, it had been kind of an accident. Becca and Bucky shared a room, that was normal. What wasn't normal was that Becca hadn't locked the door when she went to change out of her uniform, and as such, Steve blundered in on her while she was topless. He gave a small yelp, then turned out of the room as Becca threw things at him, shouting and screaming and yelling like the dickens about how he was a pervert. Not that she was wrong about that, but this was Becca! She was a year younger than him, practically Steve's little sister, he wouldn't think of her like that, never ever ever!

Except... she really had looked nice naked, for as much as Steve could remember about it. He hadn't really seen that much, but she had been red in the face and Steve couldn't deny that seeing Becca flustered had really done something for him. He had fitful dreams for weeks until he finally drew it, just to get it out of his head. After he had finished, he felt ashamed that the action of drawing the picture had felt so good, especially because this was Becca. He threw the picture out, then fished it out a few days later and burned it. Three weeks later, he was over his crush on Becca.

Now, if only he could explain the way he felt about Bucky. For as much as he tried, he couldn't explain why it was suddenly much harder to draw Bucky than it had been before. Why he got all breathless when he drew those perfect lips, those icy eyes, that razor sharp collarbone. Why his dreams had shifted from one of the Barnes siblings to the other. Why the heat in his face plummets into his stomach the second he's alone.

It kind of sucked, not being to finish any drawings of Bucky because of that awful heat that would grow and spiral in the pit of his stomach, inflating his cock and demanding his attention. It sucked even worse that Bucky started to notice that he wasn't drawing as much, and it took several tries to finally finish a picture. But then it got worse, because no matter how Steve tried to beat the thoughts back, anytime he drew Bucky, he felt his chest tighten, his dick swell, and often, when he went to take care of it, it was Bucky's name on his lips. And then the dreams got weirder, shifting from wanting to something else entirely, and the dreams got louder, rougher, hotter. It was becoming normal for Steve to wake up coated in a thin layer of sweat, cock throbbing as he escaped to the bathroom.

For whatever stupid reason, the dreams got quieter when he shared a bed with Bucky, his muscular arms draping over Steve's scrawny body, an extended palm pressed against his back, pushing against the abnormal curve in his spine. It felt nice, even if it only happened when Steve was sick.

But then Steve's ma died. And it hurt, it hurt so bad, and Bucky hugged him when he woke up from nightmares, wheezing from a lack of breath. And as bad as it hurt, as horrible as it felt, he didn't feel crushed. Everyone had always told him that having a parent die hurt to no end, but some sliver of Steve's heart had survived, and that was the piece that Bucky had, holding it. He felt kind of guilty, actually, that his world didn't end when his mother died, that his entire soul got stronger, less afraid, that he even found in his emotions desire, desire and want, want for Bucky. And somehow, as he began to heal, the dreams came back, louder than ever. And as the call of blind lust got stronger, Steve was finding it harder and harder to ignore what he felt for Bucky.

He wasn't sure when he sure when he started sharing the bed with Bucky, probably in the winter for warmth, but one they did, the dreams began barraging him non-stop. Steve lost count of how many times he woke up, whimpering, his stomach on the mattress and his back pinned by Bucky's arm, desperately trying to get free before Bucky could discover him. Drawing helped now, as it let him put his thoughts on the page rather than keeping them in his head. He drew girls he liked, too, trying to shake this stupid crush that could eventually get him killed. It didn't matter he was queer, or he supposed he wasn't really, he liked girls too.

Then the war. Bucky got shipped out, he got turned into Captain America, and what's more, he found the only girl who had ever been able to cut through his dreams was interested in him. And that ended up being a gateway for him to shove his crush aside, to be shallow and cold and draw girls that he liked looking at. It gave him a chance to be normal. But, of course, there was Bucky.

Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. It always came back to Bucky. When Steve performs for what's left of the 107th, all he can think about is how much he wants to see Bucky again. And when Peggy told him that the 107th is split, he can't find the energy to hold back his need to find his friend. He searched, going against direct orders to find someone who might be dead. And when he did find Bucky, drugged out of his mind and completely lost to the world, his relief hit him like a punch to the gut.

They have a good run in France, with Steve still able to shift his focus off his nature and onto others. There were some particularly nice girls he drew, but his mind kept going back to Bucky, and one day, he snaps, unable to stop himself in one of the rare moments they're alone. He kissed Bucky, hard, and Bucky kissed back, just as hard, and they were both crying and breathless and Steve got to live out those wild fantasies he had, groping and pulling and biting and sucking. Bucky had a practiced hand in setting him off, but when he finally succumbed to the cry of pleasure, Bucky simply whispered to him that it couldn't be, and left him wordlessly. That almost hurt worse than his stupid crush had.

The worst part of that was he knew Bucky wanted him, and he filled the void with girls who threw themselves at him, but it never helped. It hurt even worse when his body responded to their touches, because his heart wasn't in it. And then that mission, that goddamn mission where Bucky fell, fell to his death. Steve could have sworn he felt his heart shatter when he lost sight of Bucky, and from there he spiraled out, the void in his heart growing until it consumed him completely.

He crashed a few weeks later, and that was the end of that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He jolts up into a sitting position, panting heavily from the dream that was coursing through his mind just a minute before. He recognizes the room as a recovery ward, but there's no roommate with him, and it doesn't matter how important he is, in wartime, no one gets a single room. The nurse that comes in to check on him is attractive, too attractive, and it's the first thing that clues him in to the fact that something's wrong. That, and the fact that when he questions it, she very obviously plays dumb. He knows, of course, that whatever happened to him, it must have been worse than he thought. But no one seems to notice that the Valkyrie was his suicide note, and even worse, they don't seem to recognize that there's someone inside of the Captain America persona they now worship, or that he's hurting worse than ever. They need him, they say, they need him to save the world. They don't tell him that the reason they need him is because they fucked up. They don't have to.

Things are moving fast, too fast, and then he meets Nat. And she's amazing, because somehow, she gets everything to slow down. It gives Steve time to think, and he finds a way to cope, and it's the same way he copes with everything else; He draws, sketching until his fingers are numb, doodling on random scraps of paper. Some of his more abrasive teammates never seem to leave him alone, but Nat, Nat is different. And for the first time in years, Steve is drawing someone other than Bucky in his notebooks.

It all gets ruined when he leaves the notebook out in front of Nat. He had given her permission to look through it, but hadn't turned to look and see which notebook she meant. Which was absolutely on him, but that didn't make it any less embarrassing.

"Steven. What is this?" Nat's voice is calm, but Steve catches the change, the slight undertone that conveys her displeasure. Steve looks over and sees his little leather notebook, the one with all his dirty pictures, and he goes pale, the color draining from his face before rising again, embarrassment quieting his words. The pictures of Nat he has aren't revealing, she's not naked or anything like that, but they are suggestive.

"Um. Those. Those are.... Um, well..." Steve blushes again, but Nat just gives him a sad smile, shaking her head.

"I'm married, Steven. I wouldn't expect you to know that, because I don't wear my ring, But I have been in a committed relationship for 10 years at this point".

Steve feels his heart break, a split down the middle that threatens to tear him open. Of course, of course he would fall for someone else he can't have. He feels angry and frustrated with himself, because it's not Nat's fault she doesn't reciprocate. It never will be Nat's fault. But it's not his fault either. Somehow, that makes his stupid crush even worse.

He gets over it quickly, mostly because he meets Sam. And at first, he is so gone for Sam, his stupid smile and sarcastic comments and the way he isn't completely flustered when Steve introduces himself properly. But he quickly realizes that this is his dick and not his heart talking, and he wouldn't do that to someone so sweet and kind. Sam doesn't deserve to be a one night stand, and Steve doesn't have the heart to do that to him anyway. He likes Sam, and Sam starts teaching him about how the world works.

Of course, the goddamn Winter Soldier is trying to kill Nat, and fuck if he's going to let that happen to his friend. They fight, and more than once Steve is almost thrown off by those piercing blue eyes that he knows somehow, and he rips that stupid mask off, and the Soldier turns, and- And-

Oh God, he knew it. He does know those eyes.

"Bucky?" Steve feels his voice waver, feels the disconnect, feels his body and mind react to the Soldier, because that's Bucky, that's his Bucky, his friend, his stupid idiot friend who loved him, and-

"Who the hell is Bucky!" Bucky growls, and Steve dies a little on the inside. Nat saves him, and time flies, really flies, until he's face to face with Bucky again, teary eyed and shouting that he won't fight his friend, and Bucky beats the shit out of him, but he manages to croak out a line that he said to Steve when Steve's ma died.

"I'm with you till the end of the line." Steve rasps, and Bucky hesitates, and Steve loses consciousness. When he wakes up in the hospital, Sam is there, and he smiles through the drugs, but he's loopy as hell and just wants sleep. Sam has some choice words for him, then starts talking about how horrible that must have been, and how scary it was to fight a friend. Steve's not sure why he decides to tell the truth, but he's glad he does, it feels like a weight was taken off his chest.

Sam teaches him two new words that day. The first is "Stonewall", and the second is "Bisexual". Steve likes both those words, and what they mean. They are good words, valid words. But of course, now he has a bunch of other questions.

Bisexual. He's bisexual. He can like any gender, with a preference towards one gender or another. And he knows that he does feel pleasure from both men and women, he has felt pleasure from both. But he has other questions, questions about himself, questions about the world around him. Questions about his dead friend who came back to life. It would hurt far less if Bucky had come back with him. But it takes another 4 months before that happens, before he shows up at their door and pleads with tears in his eyes for a place to stay.

Steve of course says yes, but that night he has the most intense dreams he's had in a long time, longer than he can remember. It worries him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sam, I have a problem." Steve is relieved when Sam nods, but doesn't look up. "I have this... person, and I kind of have a giant crush on them? But, they're not in a good place right now, mentally, and I keep having these dreams, and I was wondering... Does that make me an asshole?"

Sam half glares at Steve from over the edge of his book.

"It's fucking Barnes, isn't it?"

"No! Maybe." Steve pushes a hand through his hair. "Yes. Yeah, it's Bucky. What do I do?"

"Kiss him, take him for a walk, confess. I don't know man".

"But the... my crush..."

"Listen, you're not an asshole. Clearly, he likes you back, so, I don't know, as long as you aren't acting like a horndog..."

"No! God, Sam, I'm not a pervert, I'm just frigging horny!"

"Mm-Hmmm".

"SAM".

"Listen, did you try to kiss him?"

"No, but-"

"Are you thinking pervy thoughts about him?"

"If I say yes, do you promise not to hold it over my head?"

"Ok, so you're stupid for him. Dreams and shit are normal, but if you're putting moves where he doesn't want them, that's a problem. You're not a perv, Steve, I know that. You're a good guy".

"I don't feel like a good guy." Steve murmurs. Sam sighs, then gets up off the couch, closing his book. Steve turns away, trying to hide his puffy eyes before Sam can see, but he doesn't succeed, and Sam catches his cheek, turning it back towards him.

"Hey." Sam's voice is soft, reassuring. "I know it's probably difficult, especially right now, but how your emotions present themselves when regarding infatuation and love is something you have no control over. What you do have control over is how you behave in light of those emotions, and the fact you are concerned about overstepping your boundaries proves you're not an asshole. It will take time, ok? It may take years, if you're willing to wait that long".

"I tried- When I was younger, and I found out, I tired to pretend it wasn't happening. And then, in the army, girls noticed me, and I- I tried, Sam, I tried, and it never felt good. I never felt good if I wasn't with him".

"That's pretty normal, actually. It's common with breakups. Oh, shit, he didn't-"

"No. I mean, we did it once, but I was scared, we both were, I mean, you know what people thought about it then. We... I kissed him, I couldn't help it, and he kissed back, and God, I was so scared but so thrilled, and then he just... left".

"He ghosted you after sex? And you're still hung up on him?"

"Sam, I know he likes me. I guess both of us just figured we weren't going to die without saying 'I love you' properly, but I wanted more, and Bucky... I kept waiting for him to get over his fear and give in, to take what he wanted, what we both wanted. But he didn't. He just said we couldn't make it like that and left. And I guess we both did a pretty good job of pretending it didn't actually happen".

"Jesus." Sam folds a fist against his mouth, huffing against his knuckles as he turns away. "Jesus, you need help. You got that hung up on a crush that-"

"He likes me!"

"He rejected you! I get that it's hard to move on sometimes, but Jesus! You need help".

"Oh, you should have seen him when I told him I was married." Nat snorts as she glides into the room, Clint in tow. "He got mopey for a good three weeks and wouldn't talk to me. I swear he was pissed, but his anger never made it past mild frustration when he spoke to me".

"Wait, he got a crush on you?" Clint grins between Steve and Nat, grabbing Nat's waist as he wiggles his eyebrows at Steve. "Pay up, honeybunch".

"I wasn't mad at you." Steve murmurs as Nat rolls her eyes and hands over a folded twenty dollar bill. "I was mad at myself, for letting it happen. For falling for another person I couldn't have".

"Your track record is shit, by the way." Sam grumbles as Clint starts shouting that Nat hadn't paid him the full amount. The two spies hash out the details of their little bet in the background as Steve sits down, grabbing a book from the pile that now lives on their coffee table. He starts to read, and by page twenty he's forgotten that anyone else is in the room.

A small cough brings him back to reality. He glances up and sees tangled brown hair partially obscuring ice blue eyes, a small halo cast into his hair by the summer sun. A metallic hand is outstretched with a blue ceramic plate clasped tightly in it. The other hand is clenched tightly in Bucky's lap, trembling slightly as he swallows hard, his eyes flicking quickly to the plate and back up to Steve. Steve sits up quickly, too quickly, and Bucky flinches, drawing back ever so slightly.

"Hey. Do you want me to take that?" Steve tilts his head as Bucky thrusts the plate forward, nearly breaking it with his grip on the edge so tight. Steve reaches forward and sees Bucky flinch again, so he draws back, hands raised. "Hey, I'm going to take this now, ok?"

Bucky's eyes flick about quickly, then back to Steve again. He relaxes his grip just enough so that the plate doesn't shatter, keeping his eyes on Steve the entire time. Steve takes the plate, barely keeping it from crashing to the floor as Bucky nearly drops it, then moves to put it in the sink. The second he stands, Bucky does as well, darting towards his room as quickly as he can. Steve watches in confusion, hearing a door slam not even ten seconds later.

"That was weird." Steve says, rinsing the plate and putting it in the dishwasher. Nat hums, then ruffles Clint's hair. "He's never done that before. I don't think I've ever seen him out of his room".

"It's because of me." Nat says easily, doodling on the crossword in front of her before directing her gaze to Steve. "I'm not normally here on this day of the week, so he'd normally come out and put his dishes in the sink himself".

"How do you know?"

"Security footage. He's an assassin, Steven. He's meant to be quiet if he has to be".

"Well, how do you know you're what-"

"It's part of my programming." Nat says, standing and giving Clint a small nod before turning to face Steve. "'In the event an asset goes rogue and cannot be recovered, the Black Widow with the highest level of operation experience is to be sent to terminate the rogue asset. Failure to terminate the rogue asset will result in reprogramming and possible termination'. Rules of recapture, version 16".

Nat seems weaker when she sits down, and Steve expects it's brought back some bad memories for her. He takes a moment to consider what he just learned, and comes to a conclusion he'll have to verify with Nat.

"He thinks you're here to kill him." Steve feels his chest get tight when Nat nods. "But... he knows that you're not- that he isn't-"

"You aren't afraid of me, Steven? I could kill you in your sleep".

"But you won't. I know that".

"Your first impression of me was someone who worked for your boss. An ally. His first impression of me was a dirty ten year old who could kill a man in ten seconds flat, with his job being to teach me how to get those ten seconds down to six." Nat shrugs as she leans against Clint. "He may understand that I won't hurt him, but he doesn't know it".

"So why get my attention at all? Why not retreat?"

"It's seen as a sign of weakness, an acknowledgement of my ability to kill him at anytime. He got your attention because you promised him safety. He doesn't believe that I'll be able to hurt him around you".

Steve muses on that for a second before he gets up and mutters that he's going to the gym, where he promptly beats the shit out of one of his punching bags. Halfway through his set the sharp smell of blood alerts him to the fact that he forgot to wrap his hands, but instead of stopping, he doubles down, relishing in the sharp pain of his battered knuckles hitting the canvas. It feels good, the mindless sting, the dull thuds of him pounding the bag, the cool streams of sweat dripping on his shirt. It takes his mind off things, at least until he's done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ah!" Steve's index finger flies to his mouth, a few tangy droplets of blood hitting his teeth before he pulls back, shaking his hand. "Ow! Jesus, that stings!"

"What?" Sam looks over at Steve, who's now inspecting the sharp but shallow gash on his left hand, blood welling up where the edge slipped into his skin. The afternoon light gives Sam almost an aura, the autumn sky orange behind him.

"I cut my hand on the fucking pizza cutter, that's what." Steve hisses as blood begins to trickle down his finger. "Ouch".

"Sit down, I'll get the kit." Sam rolls his eyes as Steve grabs a napkin and presses it to the spot where his skin is now oozing blood. The cut isn't serious, it'll likely be gone in a minute or two, but it still hurts. Experimentally, Steve presses the skin adjacent to the wound, hissing when it hurts. He's not sure what he expected.

"Stevie?" Steve's eyes snap up to where Bucky is standing, peeking around the corner with mild discomfort on his face. "I heard a shout. Are you ok?"

"I'm alright. I slit my finger on the stupid pizza cutter, that's all." Steve waves Bucky over, and he tentatively approaches, still wary of sudden movements. "See? It's almost already gone".

"Yeah..." Bucky pales significantly when Steve tilts his hand towards Bucky, a faint green tinge rising in his face. "Does- Does it hurt?"

"A little, but it's almost gone now. See?" Steve holds up his hand so Bucky can see the healing process, smiling as he feels the wound begin to close itself, skin lacing back together. "It took a little longer to heal this time around, but I guess that's because it hit a vein or something. Might also be cuz Sam gave me the flu, that slows my heal factor".

Bucky is now extremely pale, and looks a mix between disgusted and awed. He leans forward, poking the newly healed skin, the way almost every person to ever see Steve's heal factor does.

"Careful, it's not dry yet. You might pull it off." Steve jokes. Bucky immediately pulls back and suppresses a gag, lurching for the sink as he vomits loudly. Steve is instantly on his feet, pulling back Bucky's hair as he retches. "Whoa! Jesus, Buck, I didn't mean to make you sick".

Bucky pants, opening his mouth to say something. He gets out half a syllable before he's bent over the sink again, Steve rubbing his back lightly. Sam returns then, squawking when Bucky retches loudly and paling a bit himself.

"Ok, what the fuck did I miss?"

"It's gone." Steve holds up his hand to show Sam, who nods slowly while keeping his eyes solidly on Bucky. "It took about thirty seconds, but I blame that on whatever god awful stomach bug you handed over to me last week".

"Nobody said you had to help." Sam grins widely. "But, I mean, there's a supersoldier throwing up in our sink. Should I be worried, or...?"

"Bucky has a thing about blood. I'd assumed it went away, cuz of the whole... Ya know. I was very wrong." Steve turns back towards Bucky, who looks much better now. "Sorry. I should've asked".

"S'ok. It was actually kind of cool. Until you said the whole 'you might pull it off' thing. That really sold the picture for me." Bucky smiles, and its a warm smile, the kind Steve has been dreaming about seeing for half a year now. Steve's ecstatic that his friend is doing better, even if this whole time it's been hard for them both. Yesterday, Steve started teaching Bucky about pride parade, because Bucky had asked for a story and Steve had started with "I blew up a keg of moonshine at Pride once". Bucky had asked what "Pride" was, and they had talked nonstop until dinner. 

"Yeah, I was joking. You know, I love to think I'm funny." Steve smiles the kind of smile that indicates an inside joke, but Bucky's face is blank. Whatever high Steve was sailing on is ripped out from under him as Bucky gives a soft "oh" and glances away. Shit, he kept doing this! Why was Steve like this? Why did he keep overstepping where his friend was at?

"Hey, I'm sorry." Steve reaches for Bucky's hand, stopping just short of it when he realizes that's another thing he probably shouldn't do. "That was insensitive of me. I'm sorry".

"It's not your fault." Bucky murmurs before turning away, clearly crying. "I don't think I'm going to get it all back anyway".

With that, he runs from the room, and Steve is left feeling hopeless. Why does he fuck everything up? What's wrong with him? He honestly can't do anything right, and he made his friend cry. Steve sits heavily, back pressed against the counter as a few tears leak from his eyes.

"Shit." Steve mutters, knocking his head against the cabinet. "Why am I fucking like this?"

"It's not your fault." Sam leans against the counter, looking down at Steve. "You messed up. That was to be expected".

"I shouldn't have done that".

"You didn't know it was going to-"

"I fucked up, Sam!" Steve barks harshly, anger flaring in his eyes. "I messed up, and I hurt him, and I keep fucking doing it! I know better, Sam! I fucking know better than to pull shit like that with him!"

Steve wants to say more, but after the initial outburst, he's too tired to try anything else. Weary, he stands, stumbling slightly as he heads for his room. Sam approaches from behind, but Steve waves him off, shaking his head.

"I'm... I'm just gonna go take a nap." He murmurs, brushing his hand against the wall as he makes his way to his room. He quickly opens the door and slips inside, only for the door to be slammed shut as Bucky pins him against it, eyes wide with rage and metal hand splayed against Steve's chest. Steve wakes up quickly, careful not to struggle as he processes what's happening. Bucky leans in close, growling ever so slightly as Steve puts his hands up in a form of surrender. Both of them are still for only a few seconds, but it feels like forever. Then, Bucky steps back, his eyes now wide with horror.

"Oh my God, Steve, I-" Bucky cuts off, taking several steps back and clutching his left sleeve. "I'm so sorry, I panicked and I couldn't find my room and I just-"

"It's ok." Steve steps forward, opening the door for Bucky. "I'd get pretty freaked out if someone entered my space uninvited, too".

"I'm so sorry." Bucky whimpers, but Steve shakes his head again, trying to ignore the pounding in his chest. "I could have hurt you, Stevie!"

"No. If you were going to hurt me, I'd stop you. Can I hug you?" Steve relaxes his posture, dropping his defenses as Bucky steps forward and clings to him, sobbing. Steve manages to kick his door closed before Bucky draws him in tighter, one hand taking up a fistful of Steve's shirt, the other snaking into his hair and tugging ever so slightly, enough that Steve gives out a small gasp, but not enough that he's distracted completely. He knows, thanks to Sam's insistence he get therapy, that the swing of emotions is him trying to hide from the feelings of sorrow and frustration.

He and Bucky sit down on the bed, and they talk about what happened and why and what they could do in the future to prevent it. Bucky has been experimenting with his newfound freedom of speech, and he gets very loud several times throughout the conversation, screaming about how he should be better and fuck HYDRA and screw this and what's the point if nothing's going to work, and Steve talks him down again and again.

"I just want to be better! I want to be the person you remember!" Bucky shouts, kicking the bed frame before sitting on the edge of the bed and crying softly. Steve's heart shatters at those words, and as he leans forward, Bucky dives into his lap, wailing. Steve pulls Bucky close, listening as the wails transform into soft, hiccupping sobs. "I want to be the person you remember.

"Bucky. Bucky, you don't have to do that." Steve whispers, pressing his forehead against Bucky's hair. "I- I think we both know you are never going to be the person I remember. But that's ok. I'm so happy you're back, Bucky, and I don't care what that means for me, I just want you to be ok. I want you to be healthy, Bucky, I don't care if you aren't the same person I remember".

Bucky doesn't say anything for a long time, but rather quietly unfolds himself from Steve and sits on the edge of the bed. A soft, murmured "Thank you" floats through the room before Bucky stands and leaves, not saying anything else. Steve spends a long time just staring at the wall before the urge to draw gets to be too much and he just spills his emotions onto the page, crying for most of the first picture. By dinner, he feels much better. Shortly after he draws Bucky slamming him against the wall, he gets a strange feeling, and he draws it again, this time with different connotations. Six drawings later, and he can confidently say he likes being handled roughly, especially by Bucky.

His dreams that night are full of rough touches that linger on his skin when he wakes up, craving pressure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Steve. Dinner." Sam says for the millionth time. Steve nods, at which point he can hear Sam's scowl. Snow falling outside the window perfectly accents the shiny, tinsel covered tree in the corner. "Steve. Now".

"Just a... few.. more.. lines..." Steve sketches, penciling in lines that give rise to a sudden flush of heat in his stomach, his dick swelling at the promise of pleasure. He does know better at this point than to draw dirty pictures before dinner, but he also doesn't want to stop. If he can ramp it as high as it will go, then he can say he forgot to wash his hands before dinner and finish up in the bathroom. He smiles, running his tongue across the edge of his upper teeth as a sharklike grin appears on his face, his breathing growing deeper.

"What the hell is wrong with your face?" Sam asks as he tries to circle behind Steve. Steve ignores him, turning his body so that his drawing pad rests between his spread legs, his right leg hanging off the couch as he arches his back and cants his hips, biting his lower lip as picture perfect details change the picture from suggestive to outright filthy. He bites back a moan when his dick twitches, reacting to the thought of being spread in the position he's drawing now. He flexes his foot lazily, leaning forward as the pressure builds.

"STEVE! DINNER!" Sam shouts, temporarily interrupting Steve's train of thought. He looks up with a raised eyebrow, questioning Sam as he places his splayed right hand on his upper thigh, his thumb dangerously close to his crotch and now aching dick. Sam huffs loudly when he sees he won't win with Steve, and as Steve goes back to his drawing, he presses his hand down against his leg, setting off a not unpleasant shudder. He blends the shadows before removing his hand from his leg slowly, reaching for the pen he dropped between his legs and returning to his picture. It's so close to being done, so close now-

"You are the only person I know who gets off more from drawing somethin' dirty than just looking at it." Bucky's voice is loud, clear, and as Steve drops his pad and closes his legs, he remembers he's not the only person in this room, casting a quick glance at a now very smug Sam.

"I beg your pardon?" Steve stammers, trying to ignore his aching cock and sudden embarrassment as Bucky stride over to him, leaning over the back of the couch and smirking at him. "I wasn't- I'd never- I-"

"Oh, please, Stevie, you've been makin' the same face since you were 15. The grin, the spread legs, the harsh breathing, the hungry eyes. I mean, did you really think I didn't know what you were doin'?" Bucky leans in closer, his grin wicked and sharp. "Or who you were drawin', for that matter?"

Steve goes even redder at the purred line, and not only is he dealing with Bucky's teasing, he is now very turned on in more ways than he can count, but if he surrenders now, he'll never live it down. Bucky pulls back, raking his hair from his face in the most obscenely beautiful way possible, grinning like he always does when he teases Steve. And fuck, Steve can't deny it now, he's horny as hell and in for it when he escapes, so he does the meanest thing he can think of; He stands slowly, drafts behind Bucky, and, drawing a finger up his spine, whispers, "I guess you're right... Bucky Bear".

Now it's Bucky's turn to blush, a sharp "What" plopping out of him before Steve ghosts away to the bathroom, laughing when Bucky shouts after him "Wait, you knew about that?" and Sam begins barraging Bucky with questions. He takes care of his erection, murmuring filthy thoughts and whispers of hope the entire time, and when he orgasms, it feels so sweet, so good. But it could be better, and maybe one day it will be.

He comes back to dinner, his hasty exit earning him some... interesting questions, but for the most part, he's fine. Until Sam asks if since the person Steve was drawing is Bucky, he's finally going to get over himself and ask Bucky out. Steve can't even think of a response before Bucky puts his arm around Steve and purrs, "Still want me, gorgeous? Saves me some heartbreak at least".

"I- You still like me?" Steve hears the higher pitch in his question, feels the hot rush of anticipation.

"Doll, why do you think I never told you about those faces you make when you draw?"

"Because you didn't want to embarrass me?" Steve, even as he's saying it, knows that isn't right. In the privacy of their own home, Bucky would embarrass the fuck out of him just to get Steve pissed off.

"It's cause if I'd told ya, you woulda stopped." Bucky catches Steve's cheek, dragging the side of his thumb down slowly, tenderly, and even as Steve leans forward, he can't help but feel strangely panicked. What if it ends like last time? What if he- "I can hear you thinking, Punk. Shut up and kiss me already".

His lips are crashing against Bucky's, the greedy, gaping void in his heart pouring lust into him as he fucks his tongue into Bucky's mouth, pushing and groping and pleading with every inch of his body. Bucky leads him, leads him backwards until he hits a door, his door, and when he turns the knob to let them in, they fall onto each other, Bucky's hands solidly around Steve's hip. Somehow, they end up in bed, pushing, pulling, crashing, seizing, and Steve lets Bucky bite and scratch and tear at his skin because it feels so good, it feels so right, and his greedy hands and greedy mouth can't get enough of the feel and taste of his beloved on top on him. Bucky rakes his nails down Steve's chest, and Steve lets out a little moan that chases the last of the color from Bucky's eyes, which have gone dark with pleasure. Bucky plays with him, pushes him right to the edge and then stops, waits for him to resurface a little before driving him right back and over, surrendering in a wordless cry as he plunges into the depths of his mind.

When he comes back from it, he waits as Bucky grins drunkenly, smirking slyly when Steve tops him and begins working him open, quickly, smoothly, murmuring sweet nothings until Bucky rolls him and bites his collarbone.

"Which one of us is in charge here, Doll?" Bucky hisses, and Steve can barely keep his eyes open for the amount of desire in him.

"Y-You are".

"That's right, Doll. I'm in charge, don't you forget that now. If I think you can't behave, we'll have to stop until you can learn to".

"Can I make a- a small request?"

"Of course Doll." Bucky grins viciously, and Steve starts panting hard as he struggles to grab hold of his aching cock. Bucky has pinned both of his hands, though, so that's not an option.

"Ma-Make it hurt." Steve pants, jutting his hips up and catching the tip of Bucky's dick, panting out a laugh when Bucky responds by lowering his hips. "Please, Sugar, make me feel it in the morning".

Bucky grins, pulls Steve's legs up, and fucks him open in the roughest way possible, shoving his fingers into Steve's hole and moving almost right away, barely giving Steve time to get used to it before he pulled out and dropped his cock in, shoving roughly and filling Steve with the entirety of him. He grinds against Steve, pushing and pushing and pushing and then he catches something that makes Steve go absolutely feral, something that feels so good and so incredible that Steve whines when the contact with it is removed. Bucky pauses, to which Steve glares at him.

"Why'd ya stop?" Steve whines, the Brooklyn creeping into his voice as he displays his annoyance.

"You were making noises..."

"That means I like it, jerk. Keep goin', if I need ya to stop I'll tell ya." Steve lays down, then whines again when Bucky removes himself and towers over Steve, glaring. "Hey!"

"Who's in charge, Doll?" Bucky purrs, catching Steve's chin with his hand and forcing him to look at Bucky. Steve blushes and mutters "you are", and Bucky nods, satisfied. "Now, if I stop, it's because I want to make sure you're ok. I don't want to hurt you, Stevie".

"Mhm, I'll tell ya".

"Steve." Bucky says in a commanding voice that sends shudders down Steve's spine. "I mean it. If I am worried I'm hurting you, I will stop. If you appear to be in pain or you cannot respond to me, I will stop. I've killed people, Stevie, hurt people. I can't hurt you, too".

"I just- I want you. I want you so bad." Steve shudders again as Bucky drops against him, sliding his hips up and down. "Please, Sugar, don't stop?"

"Learned to ask, have ya?" Bucky shoves into him, a sharp burn that somehow hurts like hell and is the best thing Steve's ever felt at the same time. Bucky fucks him rough, pinning his arms and driving into him, catching that thing again that makes him moan loudly, babbling so as not to cause Bucky to stop again. It comes hard, faster, rougher, and suddenly Bucky is murmuring things in his ear, setting him off in both body and mind.

"Come for me, Doll. Come on, I know you have it in ya. You're so close now, Honey, please, come for me, let me see you, let me see your gorgeous red face and your perfect body and come on, Darling, come for me. Let me hear those gorgeous little moans, or else let me put my mouth around that pretty little dick of yours and suck you dry, let me drink you down, Doll, Stevie, come for me please?"

The last part is barely even a whimper, but it sends Steve over the edge, moaning and shouting and convulsing through what may very well be the best orgasm of his life, completely blanking as he whines softly into his pillow as Bucky lays on top of him, pinning him to the bed by sheer force of weight. Bucky mumbles softly against his chest, breathless whispers that nearly lull him to sleep. But he has a question to ask, one he didn't get to last time.

"How do you know to do all of that? With the fingers an' everything, I mean." Steve slurs his words a little. He's exhausted, after all, he can't even remember the last time he had sex.

"Stevie, you don't think you were my first or nothin'? I knew what I was when I was 16, when I caught ya drawin' and didn't half mind. Got these... dreams about ya after, started asking around to gentlemen who kept boys for company, got told I was queer. Started playin' around with boys my age, didn't half mind. Then I kissed my girl for the first time, and I didn't like it. Didn't think I'd ever like it, you know? That's the day we broke up".

"Is that why she called you a fa- *that* word?" Steve mumbles.

"Mhm. When you said she trashed our apartment, I got so damn steamed I nearly went to her work and got her fired for kissin' a girl. 'Spect she was like you, Stevie. Bisexual, I mean. I fucking hated her for that. I couldn't live with myself if they dragged you away, locked you up and did the shocks to your brain. 'S why I didn't want to stay with you, after the first time. I was so scared, Stevie. I still am, some days".

"'M sorry".

"Don't be, Doll. I'm the one who should be sorry, I *am* sorry, sorry I pulled ya around so much when I knew all you wanted was to hold me. It was wrong of me".

"I forgive you, but only if you promise not to leave again".

"I promise, Punk".

"Mm, Jerk".

Steve rests his cheek against Bucky's forehead, listening to the sound of his lover breathing, feeling exhaustion settle in his body like stones sinking to the bottom of a river. He feels his eyes close, but is surrounded by the scent of Bucky's hair, the feel of their sweaty bodies sticking to each other, the pleasant numbness in his lower regions that comes when he is spent, sex-wise. He listens as Bucky sighs and stirs ever so slightly in his sleep, clutching Steve's body against his. And as JARVIS begins to play a variety of sounds for them, finally settling on "thunder", Steve muses that none of this would have ever happened if he didn't draw so damn much.

At least something was finally going right for him.


End file.
